


little darling/here comes the sun

by froppii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Kageyama Tobio, Cold Weather, Drabbles, Fluff, Hinata is literally the sun, Insecurity, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kageyama Tobio-centric, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Nekoma is Mentioned, POV Kageyama Tobio, Soft Kageyama Tobio, ahem kageyamas sun ahem, beach, hand holding, my other wips watching me write this like 0_o, no beta we die like my faith in humanity, oh my god thats a real tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 12:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froppii/pseuds/froppii
Summary: Kageyama likes Hinata. His eyes. His hands. His enthusiasm. His hair. His lips.And maybe, just maybe, Hinata likes Kageyama, too.~In which Hinata is the sun itself, disaster gays have gay panics, and Kageyama's a siiiimmppp
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	little darling/here comes the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voidfish_echo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidfish_echo/gifts).



> I finished season 3 yesterday and the kagehina brain rot is hitting me /hard/ I am not ready to be done with this show I'm too attached

Kageyama likes Hinata’s eyes. Those big brown eyes, always watching something, always focusing. Always tempting him.

The team is playing three-on-three matches at practice, not unlike the one he and Hinata had to play at the beginning of their first year. It’s Tanaka, Kageyama, and Hinata (naturally) against Nishinoya, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima. It’s an understatement to say that the stakes are _high- deadly,_ even. The losing team has to buy each of the winners two meat buns, and the mighty warriors of the Karasuno Volleyball Club will stop at _nothing_ to achieve victory and obtain the beautiful, meaty taste of success. 

‘Nothing’ apparently does _not_ include Yamaguchi’s jump-float serves, and Team Tanaka (as their upperclassman dubbed the team) lags behind their opponent by three points, still shy of the twenty-point mark. Sweat gathers on Kageyama’s brow and he lets out an irritated _tch_ as Yamaguchi takes the back line to serve again. His brow furrows as he studies the server across the court trying to pick up on any kind of sign or hint of what he’s planning. And honestly, Kageyama knows it’s useless; he’s never been close to Yamaguchi and frankly never studied his playstyle enough to read him the same way Tsukishima can. He glances back at Hinata. The short boy’s eyes are laser-focused, his pupils dilated and staring straight ahead. The gym could catch fire and Hinata’s gaze would stay locked. After a moment of watching across the court, his eyes widen, and he whips around to Tanaka, blocking his mouth with his hand and mumbling something Kageyama can’t quite hear. Well, it doesn’t matter, he figures, as long as they get results. One day his blind trust in Hinata may be the death of him, but until then, Kageyama is willing to confide in any information those big, shiny eyes can gather.

Yachi blows a whistle from the sidelines, and Yamaguchi tosses up the ball. He steps- and doesn’t jump. Tanaka doesn’t move behind him, and he looks at Hinata again. His friend meets his eyes with that _look_ , that look only Kageyama knows the meaning of, eyes set wide and determined, shades of tawny brown and honey and amber swirling together for the smallest instant in the sun streaming through the gym windows. The image is indefinitely engraved in Kageyama’s mind. And he knows _exactly_ where to put the ball.

Kageyama likes Hinata’s hands. He notices- well, not for the first time- but _really_ notices while walking home from practice one day. He’s walking alongside Hinata, per usual, and is positively bewildered at the tiny spiker’s apparent immunity to the frigid January air.

Kageyama blows into his hand- he’d been stupid enough to not wear gloves to school this morning, and his pockets can only provide so much protection. 

Hinata takes notice as Kageyama rubs his hands together, trying to muster any meager scrap of heat, and his reaction is instantaneous. Hinata stops walking and leans his bike, which he's been walking along with, against a lamp post.

"Bakageyama-kun!" he scolds, "You're gonna get sick or something, idiot!"

Hinata's hands dart out to clasp Kageyama's, and, well, Kageyama certainly no longer needs to worry about his _face_ being cold. 

"Your fingers are _freezing,_ dude."

Hinata wraps his hands around his friend's as much as he can and gently rubs his thumbs atop Kageyama's fists.

Kageyama isn't sure if it's the friction or something else, but Hinata’s hands are _warm._ They don't even manage to encompass Kageyama’s hands in their entirety, but he feels the heat rushing into his hands and through his body. Hinata’s calluses scrape against Kageyama's soft and diligently maintained skin, and the feeling of Hinata’s hands in his own feels so right that it's almost familiar somehow. It's as if they're meant to hold each other, to keep each other warm.

Kageyama likes Hinata’s enthusiasm. Don't get him wrong- contrary to popular belief, Kageyama is _not_ a morning person. It's just something about all the fidgeting and yelling and bouncing around that's just so _Hinata_.

"Can you sit still for _two seconds,"_ Kageyama asks, though it's not so much a question as it is an exasperated request. 

Hinata may as well be hopping up and down on the bench they're sitting on, overlooking the beach.

"I'm _excited,"_ he says, "the Tokyo away games are only a couple days away!"

By 'only a couple', he means a full week, but the club has taken a 'team-building' trip to the beach this weekend, so how Hinata is pumped up for _next_ weekend is beyond him. Kageyama just wants to focus on surviving the early mornings of this trip before he even begins to think about all the matches and punishments to come (though Karasuno _has_ gotten exponentially stronger in the past year, so who knows). 

If he’s being totally honest, Kageyama is really only here for two things: to keep his underclassmen from dying, and to wake up before Hinata. Well, _try_ to wake up before Hinata. _Pretend_ to try to wake up before Hinata. Truthfully Kageyama is willing to let the losses rack up if it means getting to see that cheeky little smile he flashes when he knows he’s won, his features basked in the soft light of the rising sun as they are right now. He could get used to seeing Hinata like this, hours before the rest of the world begins to stir. His hair and eyes glow, and light little freckles are visible under the warm light, and- and Kageyama should _really_ stop staring. 

Hinata stops his bouncing for a moment and tilts his head, confused at Kageyama’s seemingly spaced-out face. Kageyama, clearly realizing where he is, goes pink in the cheeks (though it may just be from the lighting, Hinata can’t tell) and whips his head away.

“It’s too early for all that energy,” Kageyama mumbles. He yawns for good measure. 

“You’re just mad you lost.”

Another forced yawn.

"Come _on,”_ Hinata shakes one of Kageyama’s shoulders, “you can't be tired, we've got a full day ahead. There's no point in me winning everything if you're not gonna be any real competition"

 _“Tch._ Are you kidding?” Kageyama looks back at Hinata. “I could run rings around you right now if I wanted to.”

"Oh yeah?” And there it is, that smirk, challenging him, drawing him in. “ _Prove it."_

“Wait, what?”

Before Kageyama knows it, they’re sprinting down the beach, neck and neck, unspokenly racing towards the water’s edge as fast as their legs can carry them. Hinata’s laughter and little grunts of effort fill the morning air, and Kageyama feels he has the energy of a thousand Hinatas. As Kageyama begins to pull ahead just a few meters from the water, he feels a weight on his back, and suddenly he and Hinata are sent tumbling down. 

Surprising even himself, Kageyama finds himself laughing right along with Hinata as they roll in the sand. Kageyama gives up trying to wrestle Hinata off of him and flips them both over. He winds up hovering over him, grabbing at his wrists while the smaller boy pushes at his face with the heel of his hand. When they’re both breathing heavy from languor, breathless from all the laughter, Kageyama flops down next to Hinata in the sand.

Seeing Hinata’s glowing grin the moment he wakes up, the sound of tinkling laughter that only Kageyama can hear… he could definitely get used to mornings like these.

Kageyama likes Hinata’s hair. The way his bangs curl up around his face, the little baby hairs at the base of his neck, its vibrancy the icing on the cake of Hinata’s bright personality.

They’re seated next to each other on the train home from a day out in the city. They have a long weekend thanks to some teacher workday, so they thought, to hell with it, might as well make use of an extra day off.

They’d finished off their day romping around a park, trouncing through the fallen leaves, their laughs carried by the autumn breeze. Now, they sit side by side, breathless and exhausted just as most of the time they spend together ends.

Hinata leans his head back and lets out a content sigh as he unzips his jacket.

“Hey,” he says, and Kageyama looks at him. “I had fun today. Like, honestly.” He casts his eyes down at his lap. “It was… it was nice.”

Now, any other day, any other moment in time, Kageyama’s face would be redder than the Nekoma team’s jerseys. _Today,_ however, Kageyama is much too distracted by the leaves and twigs littering Hinata’s fluffy hair. It’s as if the sun is covered in little dark spots blotting out the light. Though, (and Kageyama would never say this out loud), the sun sitting next to him now looks unfairly adorable with leaves sticking out of his curls.

“Hey, sit still for a sec.” 

Hinata blinks up at him, then his entire body stiffens as Kageyama reaches a hand to the side of his neck. His fingers brush against his skin, and it takes every fiber of Kageyama’s being to ignore the spark he feels under his skin. He plucks a twig out of Hinata’s hair and holds it up for him to see.

“Oh.”

“Turn around, there’s more.”

Hinata turns in his seat as much as he can so the back of his head is facing Kageyama.

Kageyama works slowly, allowing his fingertips to brush through Hinata’s hair as he removes the gathered foliage piece by piece. It’s _soft,_ and Hinata’s head truly does radiate heat like the sun itself.

Kageyama looks down at the leaves in his hand and feels himself smile. He hears Hinata yawn, and then there’s weight leaning back on his shoulder. Orange hair tickles his neck as Hinata settles in, light breaths puffing from his nose, his body pressed up against Kageyama’s side.

…

 _Wait, what?_ Alarms go off in his brain. Someone in the office up there calls their loved ones to say goodbye. There’s a screaming child in the distance, and the mainframe crashes. 

Kageyama urges his brain to stop panicking and is filled with a million questions (most of them are _what the fuck is happening)_ . What’s the protocol for this? Is this, like, a normal thing friends do? And where the _hell_ is he supposed to put his arms?

He looks down at Hinata, so peaceful and content, completely oblivious to the dumpster fire he’s turned Kageyama’s mind into. He wonders if Hinata even realizes what he’s done.

But… Kageyama doesn’t hate it. He’d almost go as far as admitting to _liking_ it. Almost. Maybe. Just a little.

He lets out a breath and allows his tense body to relax. His arms fall- one resting at the side of Hinata’s leg and the other around his shoulders. He sighs and closes his eyes. Maybe Hinata has the right idea- it’s been a wild day, and Hinata feels _so very comfortable_ leaning against him.

Kageyama leans his head to the side and rests it atop Hinata’s cloud of hair.

_And he doesn’t hate this._

Kageyama likes Hinata’s lips.

Wait- is that something he’s supposed to like? Why not? They’re friends, right? He’s allowed to admire a teammate, acknowledge his presence and have a _purely objective_ stance on his appearance. That’s fine.

Is Kageyama supposed to get distracted whenever Hinata wets his lips with his tongue as he concentrates? Is he allowed to be unable to rid his mind of the thousands of images it’s saved of Hinata? Is it okay for him to look at those lips and wonder what they would feel like pressed against his own, pressed against his skin? Is that… wrong?

And, oh god, _when did he start feeling this way?_

Kageyama likes Hinata. He realizes that now. Or, maybe he’s known for a long time. And…he’s fine with it.

He likes Hinata’s eyes, his hands, his hair, his endless supply of energy. His lips. Anything and everything _Hinata._ He _adores_ Hinata’s smile, and his laughter and shouts when he’s excited. What he hates is when Hinata _isn’t_ smiling. When he’s down on himself. Defeated.

So Kageyama hates today.

It had started out great! A few other schools in the prefecture came to Karasuno to play some practice matches. Karasuno did well throughout the day… until their last match, against Nekoma.

The two teams decided to give each other some kind of hindrance or challenge. And Nekoma decided that Karasuno’s challenge would be… that Hinata wasn’t allowed to make any attacks.

And, while at first, Hinata was more than up for a challenge, Kageyama noticed him slowly getting less and less motivated after each and every mistake he made. He ended up wondering if Hinata’s head was even in this match.

As soon as they finished the match and finished cleaning up the gym, Hinata had run off to the clubroom before anyone could ask him where he was going.

Now, Kageyama is frozen in front of the closed door of the clubroom, listening to Hinata’s hushed sniffles. _And he hates it._

He raps on the door twice, then slowly opens it, letting the light of the afternoon sun stream into the dark room. 

“...Hinata?”

He has his back against the locker in the corner of the room and his knees are drawn up to his chest, chin resting on top. He’s not crying, really, just a bit choked up, which still isn’t great, but it does mean he’ll be more willing to talk.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun.” Hinata looks up. “H-hey. Look, sorry for running off, but if you’re here to yell at me then-”

“No!” Kageyama cuts him off, then, softer, “No, I’m- I came to check on you.” He rubs the back of his neck and stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. He’s _really_ bad at this. “You seemed, uh, a little off, so…” 

He trails off and Hinata offers a soft smile, then pats the spot on the floor next to him. Kageyama takes his offer and sits, Hinata’s shoulder ever so gently brushing against his arm. 

“It was fun,” Hinata starts unprompted, to Kageyama’s surprise. “I thought for a good while that it was cool to see what it all looks like from behind, but…” He trails off.

“But…?”

“Sorry, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not.”

“You say that now-”

“Just keep talking, moron.”

Hinata blinks at him, then scoots a bit closer. He continues. “It made me realize how, if I’m not hitting your tosses, I’m kinda… useless, I guess.” He looks up at Kageyama, who’s silently observing his face, and he plops his chin back down on his knees.

“Told you it was dumb,” he mutters.

But Kageyama isn’t having it. He places a hand on Hinata’s shoulder, and Hinata’s breath hitches as it then finds its way up his neck and to the curls that line his ear.

 _I’m listening,_ the motions of Kageyama’s fingers in his hair seem to say. So he goes on.

“I just… I dunno. I look at people like Tsukishima, or like you, right? You guys have at least _some_ skill everywhere it matters. Blocking, serving, receiving… but I don’t.” He lifts up his hand and stares at his palm. “All I really have going for me are my spikes. And…” he glances for a brief moment at Kageyama. “...and without your tosses- without _you_ , even that doesn’t amount to much. I feel like I’m _so dependent_ on you, even now, and everyone else is miles ahead of me.” He swallows. “Anyone could take my spot and it wouldn’t even make a difference.”

 _That_ gets Kageyama. He doesn’t know _why,_ but something about the defeatedness in Hinata’s voice just makes him so _angry._ Angry at Hinata for not telling him about this, angry at the world for making him feel this way, angry at _himself_ for never noticing.

Before Kageyama can process his own actions, he has Hinata by the collar of his shirt, and he’s pulling him up, then pressing him against the locker. He slams his hands against the metal on either side of Hinata’s head with a resounding _DON_ and glares straight into those big brown eyes.

“Wh- Kageyama-kun?”

“You _dumbass!”_ Kageyama roars.

“What-”

“Who _cares_ if you can’t receive to save your life? _Who gives a shit if you depend on me?_ When have I _ever_ given you the impression that you leaning on me is a _bad_ thing? _I lean on you too, idiot!_ So just- just…” 

Kageyama’s eyes travel downwards to Hinata’s lips, still moist from Hinata running his tongue over them during the matches.

And, just like Hinata, Kageyama finds himself moving on instinct.

He crushes his lips onto Hinata’s, and everything rushes back to him. Hinata’s eyes closing, lashes fluttering against Kageyama’s cheek. Those small, calloused hands reaching up his back to pull him closer. The softness of Hinata’s hair as he runs a hand through it. The spark of electricity short-circuiting any thoughts in Kageyama’s mind other than Hinata’s presence, his touch, his lips.

Kageyama likes Hinata. His eyes. His hands. His enthusiasm. His hair. His lips.

And maybe, just maybe, Hinata likes Kageyama, too.


End file.
